


A Kitchen Fairy Tale

by Popcornapocalypse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blender!Stiles, Blenders, Crack, Fairy Tales, First Kiss, Kinda, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popcornapocalypse/pseuds/Popcornapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a blender. Derek is understandably confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kitchen Fairy Tale

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how this happened.

Derek woke to a loud whirring noise coming from somewhere in the loft. He listened for a second, but couldn’t hear anything else. It was barely light out, the only sound in the pre-dawn silence apparently coming from his kitchen.

He stood, quietly unsheathing his claws, and stepped through brick archway into the kitchen (it was modern architecture and he liked it, no matter what Stiles said about his penchant for destroyed buildings). Speaking of Stiles, his scent saturated the room, but he was nowhere to be seen. There was another scent that Derek couldn’t identify, sharp and metallic, with a hint of ozone. There was nothing out of place except for a large, red and gray blender that had definitely not been there when he went to sleep.

Derek growled menacingly at the blender. The blender, which had stopped whirring when Derek entered the kitchen, made a few short bursts of noise before falling silent again. If it was possible for a blender to sound annoyed, this one did. Wonderful. Now he was assigning emotions to kitchen appliances.

When Derek didn’t move, the blender started whirring again, louder this time. How the hell was it even doing that? Derek cautiously approached to see the lights on the front of the blender flashing on and off.

Derek glared. The blender whirred irritably at him. He looked down at the control panel to see if he could find an off switch (there didn’t appear to be a plug he could pull) and saw a small digital screen with letters flashing across it.

“[D-E-R] [E-K-  ] [D-E-R] [E-K-  ] [H-E-L] [P-M-E]”

“What.” Derek stared at the blender. The blender gave its best impression of staring back. Of course Derek had to have a haunted blender. How was this his life?

“[I -T-S] [S-T-I ] [L-E-S] [H-L-P]”

“Stiles?” Derek asked, bewildered. “You—what?”

The blender—Stiles?—buzzed sharply before flashing, “[Y-E-S] [S-T-I ] [L-E-S] [H-E-L] [P-M-E] [D-U-M] [B-A-S]”

Derek had to be dreaming. He poked at his arm with a clawed finger. Nope, definitely awake. He sighed and looked at the blender again.

“[C-O-M] [E-O-N] [S-O-U] [R-W-O] [L-F-H] [E-L-P] [M-E-  ] [  -O-R] [A-R-E] [Y-O-U] [G-O-N] [N-A-  ] [M-A-K] [E-M-E-] [B-E-G] [F-O-R] [I -T-?]”

Derek gaped, quickly pushing away the mental image of Stiles begging for something else entirely. He put his head in his hands, groaning miserably. He couldn’t decide whether it was worse that he was attracted to a teenager or that he was considering being attracted to a blender. It was far too early in the morning for this.

Stiles buzzed impatiently. Derek raised his head and looked back at Stiles’ screen. “Alright, what do you—how did you even do this in the first place?”

Stiles’ blades spun (Derek swore he was rolling his eyes). “[M-A-G] [I -C-C] [A-L-L] [D-E-A] [T-O-N]”

With another glance at Stiles-the-blender, Derek grabbed his phone and started dialing the number for the veterinary clinic. Stiles started whirring again, but there were no more words on the screen.

Derek waited while the phone rang, and rang, and rang. When he heard the beep of the clinic’s answering machine and Deaton’s pre-recorded voice listing the hours of operation, he nearly threw his phone across the room in frustration.

Stiles started buzzing again and Derek saw more letters on his screen. “[T-R-Y] [T-H-I] [S-  -  ]” Stiles flashed a phone number across his screen which Derek diligently copied into his phone.

“[M-A-G] [I -C-O] [N-L-Y] [E-M-R] [G-N-C] [Y-C-O] [N-T-A] [C-T-  ]” Stiles explained when Derek looked suspiciously at him.

Deaton picked up on the first ring.

“Stiles is a blender,” Derek said.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

“ _Stiles_ is a _blender_.”

Derek heard Deaton sigh heavily. “I’m assuming from the fact that you know it’s him that he’s able to communicate?”

“Yes. _Fix him._ ”

“Can you ask him what he did?”

“Fine.” Derek turned back to Stiles. “What did you do?”

Stiles whirred dejectedly. “[H-I -S] [B-O-O] [K-  -P] [A-G-E] [4-4-0]”

Derek relayed Stiles’ message and switched his phone to the speaker while Deaton went to find the book. Finally Deaton asked, “Are you sure that’s what he said? Page four hundred and forty?”

“[Y-E-P]”

“Yes.”

“Then how—? Is he really a blender?”

Stiles whirred indignantly.

Deaton sighed. “That shouldn’t make too much of a difference, but without knowing how it happened…” He trailed off.

“How do I turn him back?” Derek growled.

“I’m fairly certain you have kiss him.”

“ _What.”_ While kissing Stiles was something Derek had frequently considered, he had no idea whether it was something Stiles actually wanted. But now that he had an excuse... Derek shook himself. He wasn’t going to touch Stiles if Stiles didn’t want him to. Besides, Stiles was his friend, and any Stiles at all was better than losing him because he had tried for something he wasn’t allowed to have. That and the fact that Stiles was currently a blender.

“It’s a relatively common spell, _The Frog Prince,_ _Beauty and the Beast,_ that sort of thing,” Deaton said, sounding far more amused than was probably appropriate considering the situation. “I don’t know why he turned into a blender, or why he was attempting that spell at all, but yes, you need to kiss him. If that doesn’t work, call me again during working hours, he’s in no immediate danger.”

There was a soft click as Deaton hung up the phone.

“Fine.” Derek said, turning towards the blender. “Stiles, where the hell is your mouth?”

Stiles made a noise that could only be described as a squawk and jolted backward on the counter. Derek’s heart sank. Of course Stiles wouldn’t want to kiss him, he shouldn’t have let himself hope in the first place. He clenched his fists, claws digging into his palms.

“I’ll talk to Deaton tomorrow,” he growled. “I’m going back to bed.”

He started back towards his room, but was interrupted by Stiles’ indignant clattering.

“[D-E-R] [E-K-N] [O-W-A] [I -T-S] [T-O-P] [C-O-M] [B-A-C] [K-H-E] [R-E-! ]”

Derek stopped, looking at Stiles warily.

“[I -T-S] [T-H-E] [S-C-R] [E-E-N] [I -D-I] [O-T-  ]”

“What?”

“[K-I -S] [S-M-E]”

Derek blinked. “Are you sure?” he asked, trying to ignore the surge of hope that came with the words.

“[D-O-  ] [Y-O-U] [T-H-I ] [N-K-I ] [W-A-N] [T-T-O] [B-E-A] [F-* -* ] [* -I -N] [G-B-L] [E-N-D] [E-R-?]” Stiles spelled. “[A-N-D] [W-H-Y] [T-H-E] [F-* -*] [* -I -S] [T-H-I ] [S-C-E] [N-S-O] [R-E-D] [?-! -?]”

Oh. So Stiles didn’t really want to kiss him, he just didn’t want to be a blender anymore. It wasn’t like Derek had expected any different, but he couldn’t leave Stiles the way he was. He huffed out a breath and picked up Stiles-the-blender, who had gone unexpectedly silent. Derek planted a chaste kiss on the cold plastic, wishing it was Stiles’ expressive mouth beneath his own.

There was a loud bang and Derek found himself flat on his back. There was a warm weight on his chest and the air smelled of Stiles and ozone. Derek opened his eyes to see Stiles staring back at him, looking slightly dazed. A soft whine escaped him and he looked away. He couldn’t deal with having Stiles literally on top of him when he wasn't allowed to touch.

Stiles was frozen for a moment, but then seemed to come to a decision. He leaned down and a pressed a kiss to the corner of Derek’s mouth before quickly scrambling away. Derek’s mind went blank. After a few seconds he realized Stiles was talking.

“—and I probably shouldn’t have done that but you kissed me and I didn’t get to kiss you and—please don’t kill me—“

Derek did the only thing he could think of at that point. He rolled over and covered Stiles’ mouth with his. For a moment Stiles was frozen against him, and Derek nearly pulled away in a panic. Then Stiles surged upwards, tangling his fingers in Derek’s hair. Stiles’ lips were warm and soft beneath his own. Derek ran his tongue along the seam of Stiles’ lips, relishing the gasp it caused. He grasped at Stiles’ bright red hoodie, which had apparently accompanied him to blenderdom and back, in an attempt to pull him closer.

After a moment, Stiles broke the kiss, breathing heavily. “C’mon Derek, up. Not that this isn’t amazing, but you’re going to squish me.”

Derek grumbled halfheartedly, but let Stiles push him off. He sat up against the counter and pulled Stiles into his lap. He buried his face in Stiles’ neck and closed his eyes, reassuring himself that Stiles was actually there and that it hadn’t all been some ridiculous dream. Derek nosed up against Stiles’ chin, feeling his silent laughter. The vibrations changed to a strangled moan when Derek started planting kisses down his neck. Then Stiles’ hands were on Derek’s face and he was being pulled up to meet Stiles’ eyes, which were dark with lust.

“Holy shit. You like me.”

Derek flushed and tried to duck back into Stiles’ shoulder.

“Nope. You do not get to hide, you weren’t one who got turned into a blender trying to find a way to get you to kiss me,” Stiles said.

Derek raised his head. “You—what?”

“Dude. How did you not notice? I like you too. Kind of a lot actually, and I, um, I actually had a plan to woo you—shut up it was a good plan!” Stiles shoved at Derek who was doing his best to stifle his laughter.

“Stiles, you were a _blender_ ,” Derek said. “I don’t think there is any way that counts as a ‘good plan’”

“Because you know so much about good planning,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “It worked, though, didn’t it?”

“Yes Stiles, it worked,” Derek said, leaning in and catching Stiles’ lips again. 

If Stiles had still been a blender, he would have whirred with happiness. 

**Author's Note:**

> Random fact: The Frog Prince is type 440 in the Aarne-Thompson fairy tale index (though it’s a classification system, not a book) which is were I got the page number in case you were wondering. Beauty and the Beast is 425C. Wikipedia is a wonderful thing.
> 
> Any feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
